


Sweet Dreams Are Made Of Cheese (who am I to dis-a-brie?)

by EmmyLouWho



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Puns, Cheesy, Fluff, M/M, Mac and Cheese, Meet-Cute, Mystery solving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-25 12:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17724827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyLouWho/pseuds/EmmyLouWho
Summary: The first time it happened, Harry had assumed that it was an honest mistake.The second time it happened, Harry thought it must have been a coincidence. Perhaps if he hadn’t been such an eternal optimist, the possibility that someone was stealing his food might have occurred to him a bit earlier, but Harry had a great deal of faith in the goodness of his fellow students, and so he continued to believe that it was an accident.But by the third time he had returned to an empty microwave, Harry was starting to realise that someone was stealing his mac & cheeseon purpose.





	Sweet Dreams Are Made Of Cheese (who am I to dis-a-brie?)

The first time it happened, Harry had assumed that it was an honest mistake. There were six different microwaves in the little kitchen area in the dining hall; it would have been easy to accidentally open the wrong one and take someone else’s food. He had briefly mourned the loss of his mac & cheese before shrugging and going back to his room to order a pizza instead. 

The second time it happened, Harry thought it must have been a coincidence. Perhaps if he hadn’t been such an eternal optimist, the possibility that someone was stealing his food might have occurred to him a bit earlier, but Harry had a great deal of faith in the goodness of his fellow students, and so he continued to believe that it was an accident. 

But by the third time he had returned to an empty microwave, Harry was starting to realise that someone was stealing his mac & cheese _on purpose_. 

The offender worked quickly, that much he knew. The mac & cheese only took four minutes to cook in the microwave, four minutes which Harry usually spent reading the dozens of ‘for sale’ flyers pinned to the noticeboard by the student centre (he was in the market for a second-hand guitar). He would return to his microwave no more than thirty seconds after his food should have finished cooking, only to find it gone. 

Quite frankly, Harry was getting sick of having to find himself a second dinner. Even though the Easy Mac packets didn’t cost that much, he was on a student budget and every bit counted. 

Although, Harry thought to himself, stabbing another piece of steamed broccoli with his fork, the thief was probably doing him a favour. His health, anyway, since they were stopping him from eating the gross plastic-y orange ‘cheese’ and forcing him to eat something with actual nutritional value. He sighed. He actually did like vegetables - even as a kid his mum had never had to bribe him to eat his greens - but sometimes, after a long day of lectures, he just wanted to eat gross plastic mac and cheese from a packet. 

Lying in bed that night, still feeling unsatisfied from his rather disappointing dinner, Harry tried to figure out what to do. 

When he had started uni, he’d been handed a little mass-produced booklet that told him how to deal with common problems faced by students. Who to contact if they weren’t coping with their classes, how to set up their email account, what they should do if they were being harassed. He’d flipped through the booklet again tonight, retrieving it from the kitchen table where his roommate Niall had been using it as a coaster, and sure enough there wasn't _anything_ in that booklet that have advice on what to do when someone is repeatedly stealing your mac & cheese from the microwave. 

Harry had retreated to his bed to think, cuddled up under his duvet with his favourite lavender scented candle burning on the nightstand and his journal open to a fresh page. 

What he needed was a plan. He needed to catch whoever was taking his food, figure out why they were doing it, and then get them to stop. 

Fifteen minutes later, he had a neatly printed bullet point list setting out his plan of attack. Step One: proceed as normal to the dining hall tomorrow night, and put a bowl of mac & cheese in the microwave. Step Two: pretend to leave the microwave unattended, but find a secret hiding place where he can keep watch. Step Three: wait for the thief to show themselves. Step Four: jump out and catch them red-handed, and bring them to justice. 

He underlined the last point twice. 

* 

Harry had already banged his head on the underside of the table twice, but he hadn’t made a sound, even though the second time it had actually kind of hurt. He wasn’t about to give away his hiding spot. 

He was _totally dedicated_ to this mission. He’d even dressed the part today in an all black ensemble. He’d put on his favourite pair of black skinny jeans, and had dug around in the back of his wardrobe to find the black long-sleeved shirt he’d ‘borrowed’ from Gemma three years ago. He was even wearing black socks. If he was doing this, he was doing it _properly_. 

Harry tucked his knees up under his chin and tried to find a way that he could sit semi-comfortably while also being able to see the microwaves across the room. he felt a little ridiculous, but that had never stopped him from doing anything before. 

He watched the microwave timer count down. Three minutes had already passed, with no prospective food thieves in sight. Harry could feel his heart pumping in his chest. What if his plan didn’t work? 

Four minutes. 

Harry heard the timer on the microwave buzz. He still couldn’t see anyone, and he was just about to accept defeat and crawl out from underneath the table, when a boy materialised seemingly out of nowhere, and headed straight for the microwave. 

_Gotcha_ , Harry thought to himself victoriously.

By the time that he had scrambled out from his hiding place, the boy had taken Harry’s bowl of mac & cheese out of the microwave and carried it over to a table on the other side of the room, where he was sitting, stirring the pasta with one hand and scrolling through something on his phone with the other. 

He didn’t seem to notice Harry walking determinedly over to him, not liking up until Harry was stood beside his chair, clearing his throat. 

“Erm, excuse me?” he asked.

“Yeah, mate?” the boy said, looking vaguely annoyed that he had been disturbed. 

He was cute, in a scruffy sort of way. If they had met under any other circumstances, Harry probably would have asked him out. At the very least, he would have flirted with him. But, Harry reminded himself with a touch of regret, this was not the time for flirting. This was the time for _serious questioning_. 

“What do you call a cheese that isn’t yours?” Harry asked. 

The boy looked confused, raising one eyebrow but remaining silent. 

“Nacho cheese!” Harry said. He’d laughed so hard when he thought of that punchline the night before that Niall had come running into his room to check on him. _Nacho cheese_. Brilliant. 

“Are you _drunk_?” the boy asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“No,” Harry said, taken aback. “It’s a joke? And, erm, that’s my mac & cheese you’re eating.” 

“What? Look, Curly - ”

“It’s Harry,” Harry interrupted. 

“Okay, _Harry_ ,” the boy continued, looking annoyed again, “I don’t know whether this is some kind of strange prank or if you’re just very delusional, but this is not your dinner.”

“Um,” said Harry. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting, really. He hadn’t really imagined how this would play out after he actually confronted the thief. If he had thought about it, he definitely never would have expected this - a cute boy who seemed to genuinely believe that Harry’s mac & cheese was his own. This situation was not covered by his bullet-point list. 

“Um,” he said again, “it actually is, though? Like it even literally has my name on it.” 

He watched as the boy lifted up the bowl to examine it closely, the neat black “Harry S” now visible. 

“Oh,” he said, eyes wide, “oh my god.” The fork in his hand dropped to the table with a clatter. “This is your dinner.” 

“I know,” said Harry. 

“I’ve been eating your dinner for _weeks_ ,” the boy said, looking horrified. 

“Kind of,” said Harry with a smile, feeling relieved now that the situation had been diffused. 

The boy was still staring at the bowl of mac and cheese in front of him with a stricken expression on his face, so Harry decided to take pity on him. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, dropping into the empty seat next to him. 

“Louis,” he said. “Are you asking for my name so you can report me for theft? Because I’m so, sorry, honestly.” 

His eyes were wide open, and Harry couldn’t help but notice they were a very pretty shade of blue, framed by long eyelashes. The effect was disarming. 

“I’m not going to report you,” Harry said with a laugh. “Wait, why did you think that it was your dinner, anyway? 

“Oh my god,” Louis moaned, dropping his head into his hands. “It’s so stupid in hindsight. It’s kind of a long story…” 

“I’ve got time,” Harry said. “Actually,” he said, “now that we’ve worked out that neither of us has any dinner, did you maybe want to go and get something to eat with me? Maybe you could tell me your story then.” 

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Louis asked, the tips of his ears going pink. 

“If you’d like,” Harry replied. 

“Even though I’ve been inadvertently stealing your food?” 

“Even then.” 

“Yeah, okay then,” Louis grinned. “I’d like that!” 

“Great!” 

“As long as it’s not mac and cheese,” Louis said vehemently. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to eat that again without feeling guilty.” 

Harry laughed, and pushed his chair back to stand up. 

“And I’m paying!” Louis insisted. “I have to make up for all those dinners I deprived you of!” 

“No, I asked you out, I’m paying,” Harry said. “You can pay next time.” 

“Next time?” Louis asked, trying to hide a smile. 

Harry shrugged, not bothering to hide his own smile as they started to walk out of the dining hall together. 

“What do you call a curly haired cheese?” Louis asked suddenly. 

“What?” 

“Perm-esan!” 

“Oh, that’s a good one,” said Harry, lighting up. “Why didn’t the cheese want to get sliced?” 

“Why?” 

“It had grater plans!” 

Louis giggled into his hand, and Harry couldn’t believe his luck. Cute _and_ he apparently appreciated a good pun? 

_Step Five_ , Harry mentally revised his bullet-point plan. _Fall in love at first sight._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly little story :) Please let me know if you did, and don't forget to check out the other fics in the Short Fic Fest!


End file.
